Say you're my lover
by cr0nkang3l
Summary: Sasori has a small mental breakdown.


He sat there, lonely and alone as always. He was an empty shell of what he used to be; everything he did was mechanic and thoughtless. He couldn't think and if he did all those memories would come crashing back into him. He couldn't take the pain of the impact, he simply wouldn't be able to brace against it all. He had hoped- had even begged and pleaded with god- that it wouldn't come to this.

But no one was listening to him. No one ever did.

And here, he had become this thing; a lifeless, artificial shell of what he used to be. But thing's were better this way, he couldn't feel any of the mental pain that normally accompanied his mortal human body. He didn't feel any physical pain either; making him an even more avid and dependable member of the Akatsuki. And maybe, that's what should matter to him; he had become an ultimate weapon for the organization he had committed his life to. He should be basking in that idea, knowing that he was close to unbeatable, he was so close to that _perfection_ he had so strived for.

Sasori looked up at the heavens, the sky overcast and gloomy; tinting the whole world in gray. A storm looked almost inevitable about now. He remembered her love for storms, the glee that would explode against her delicate features at the overcast skies that hung so heavily above them.

He also remembered how she would normally smile from ear to ear, lean on his shoulder and just look up.

'_Storms are the most beautiful weather in this world,' _she would always say, a slightly mesmerized look on her beautiful face. Sasori closed his eyes, not wanting to remember. But he couldn't help it, every fiber of his being missed her, ached to feel her touch him once more. Soft, warm. _Alive._

He saw her in his mind, standing there as if she was still with him. Her head was cocked up to the sky, the same gorgeous, mischievous smile on her lips. She looked down at his pitiful form, her smile never wavering. She stepped closer to him, her silver eyes filling with concern. She fell to her knees in front of him, her hands cupping his cheeks as she drew him closer.

"What's wrong, Sasori?" she asked, her melodic voice even then sounded the same. Her image wavered a bit, and panic immediately consumed Sasori.

"Avi!" he cried out, his hands reaching out to touch her, but merely passing through her. She just looked up at him, sadness in those stormy eyes.

"I'm here," Lie. She wasn't there; she could never be there anymore. He opened his eyes, her image disappearing completely. Sasori clutched where his heart was supposed to, knowing that was she was really gone. In his desperation, his mind constantly envisioned Avi; in his dreams mostly, but when he had time to sit and think, she would always come to him. In his loneliness, his mind made a furtive and miserable attempt to bring her back; which only made him wallow in his own pitiful sadness more and more.

Sure, this version of Sasori was slightly pathetic; I mean; he did just have a delusion about his dead wife. But sadness and guilt had brought him to his knees, quite literarily. Sasori had certainly been the best of men, no doubt about that. His name had been whispered in the ranks of countless fighting men and had conjured fright through even the bravest, most idiotic of them all.

He had once, and still was to an extent, been feared for his ruthlessness and viciousness in battle. But that was before, when he had thought he had nothing to lose.

Her death had changed everything.

He looks up, his chocolate eyes falling on the lone grave in front of him. He frowns, slightly frustrated. Why did she have to die? What had he ever done to deserve the pain and misery he now felt?

The answer hit him squarely in the chest.

'_Because you're a terrible, terrible person. You have killed so many people...,.'_ Her voice rang out loud and clear in his ears. Her tone wasn't angry, but merely matter of fact. Sasori clenched his fists, the knuckles turning white.

How many people had he robbed of a life and future? How many people had he watched as they lay dying, basking in the power and glory it all gave him? She had been a blessing, and now she had been ripped away from him. He _should _have expected that. It didn't mean that he _could._

His heart aches, the pain surges through his blood, eating him from the inside. He just stares at the grave, breathing in deeply. He closes his eyes, and she's there again; strong and real and beautiful. She sits down next to him, her head on his shoulder. She looks up, and smiles.

"Storms are the most beautiful weather on this world," she says and looks at him lovingly. Sasori sits there, enjoying the feel of her next to him. She runs a hand through his auburn hair, pushing the messy strands away from his closed eyes.

"How was your day?" she asks, as she always did when he came to visit. She always was so interested in whatever he had to say.

"Well, today...Hidan...," he starts, his mind shutting everything else out. All that was real to him was her, sitting next to him. She was his only, his_ glorious_ reality.

Even the greatest men fall.


End file.
